Friday Confessional

I Confess . . .

I want it to be summer. Hot, sunny, spend all day at the beach summer.

I am grateful that we haven't had an earthquake or a tsunami. I feel blessed.

And I admit I am shallow.

I really, really, really want it to be summer.

I Confess . . .

I am tracking my carb and sugar intake.

Admitting how much sugar I eat is shocking.

Cutting back on how much sugar I eat sucks.

I would eat a hot fudge sundae for every meal if I could.

I Confess . . .

Motherhood is stressing me out lately.

It feels like everything I have done since I threw away my last diaper has been a failure.

I fret that I am not doing it right. Ever.

It invades my every thought, my every waking moment and every project.

I wish there was a book and a right answer, but I know there's not.

I Confess . . .

A few people have made the mistake lately of whining about how busy they are.

I'm afraid I don't respond well to cry babies.

I've got absolutely no sympathy for anyone complaining about busy.

You can complain to me any week that you work at least 40 hours, drive 60 miles each day in traffic, have one or more difficult conversations with an educator, counselor, coach or troop leader, attend two sporting events, address no less than 20 cotillion invitations in your most beautiful handwriting, get all your laundry done, and pack two picky brat lunchboxes at least three times.

Suck it up.

I Confess . . .

I need a vacation.

If you've got a secret to spill you can link with Mamarazzi, too.